‘Er, welcome to Heatheringdown’s table quiz,’ said the quizmaster, and then laughed a nervous laugh, which was already getting on Nicky’s nerves. ‘Er, first of all, I must tell you something that, over the years, my wife and I have learnt that one ignores at one’s peril.’ He laughed again.
The hall buzzed with anticipation.
‘Er, you will notice,’ he continued, ‘that there is a big bottle of lemonade in the middle of your table.’ He laughed once more.
There was a murmur of suppressed excitement.
‘Er, you must, I repeat, must, open this slowly,’ said the quizmaster gravely. No laugh. ‘Otherwise, er, you will be drenched.’ He laughed.
Everyone waited for the punchline.
‘Now,’ he began, with a laugh. ‘Er, here are the rules for tonight’s quiz . . .’
In exactly the same way that there is only really one winner on every team of four in University Challenge and three lucky members of his or her team, there proved to be only really one winner on Table number 10. And no one was more surprised than Martha to discover that it was her boyfriend. The others made valiant attempts and occasional lucky guesses, but he was an encyclopaedia of quiz knowledge. Meanwhile, Nicky was trying to ignore Rob’s fixed gaze on her and hoping that Mark was able to as well.
During the half-time refreshment break, Mark stood up. ‘Who wants to help me and Nicky sell the raffle tickets?’ he asked.
There was silence. Miss James looked round the table.
BANG! went a bottle of lemonade behind them, followed by the rowdy hysterics of a drunk, and now soaked, table.
‘Perfect way to show off that fantastic skirt.’ Amanda smiled up at Nicky. ‘No point wasting it sitting down.’
‘You can say that again,’ winked Rob. Nicky stood up, somewhat unsteadily, thanks to two paper cups of cheap wine, and saw Rob and Amanda lean forward to chat to Miss James. Of course. There was no way they were going to waste this opportunity to bend her ear. She looked at Ally and Pete, but they were busy badly refilling their cups and doing Bagpuss impressions. She caught up with Mark, which was quite a feat in her outfit. He gave her an enormous smile. He had had four cups of wine.
‘How do you think it’s all going?’ he asked. ‘And the quiz?’ They both laughed, though in truth Nicky wasn’t exactly sure why.
‘Fabulous,’ she said, sincerely. ‘Well done.’
‘Well done to you too,’ he replied. ‘How are you doing?’
‘Well,’ said Nicky, ‘obviously I’m really glad I wore this skirt, otherwise I don’t know what Amanda would have got her claws into all evening.’
Mark laughed. ‘She’s just jealous,’ he said.
She gave him a look. He returned it.
‘What of?’ she asked bravely.
‘Where shall I start?’ he said softly. Nicky’s knees turned to foam. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘See you back at the table. I want every single one of those tickets sold. Or else . . .’
‘Or else?’ Nicky smiled.
He gave her a look up and down and her insides obediently followed it. ‘Where shall I start?’ he repeated, even softer this time, before walking away.
She turned, all wobbly, and went in the opposite direction, feeling attached to him by elastic. Or that might have been the drink.
To her surprise, she enjoyed selling the tickets. Or rather, she was happy while she was doing it. Until the end.
‘What are the prizes?’ asked one of the fathers, his jacket drenched with lemonade.
She gave him her best smile. ‘They only cost one pound,’ she said.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘What are the prizes?’
‘A meal for two at the fantastic local Chinese restaurant, a colour television, a cuddly toy, an Xbox, a bottle of champagne and a very nice box of very nice chocolates.’
‘What make?’
‘Um. Godiva.’
‘The colour television, what make?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Oh.’
‘But the chocolates are Godiva.’
There was a pause. With a big sigh, he found a pound coin in his pocket.
‘Go on, then,’ he sighed. ‘It’s for a good cause.’
She smiled, thanked him from the bottom of her heart and hoped with all of it that his table wouldn’t win.
When she sat down at her table again, it didn’t take long to work out that everyone had been conscientiously finishing the wine. Rob had just gone round the table pouring the last of it into their cups. Conversation stopped abruptly at her return and a table of red faces smiled blurrily up at her. There was an awkward pause.
Nicky sat down heavily. ‘If I don’t win the cuddly dog,’ she said, ‘I want my money back.’
Amanda’s laughter was louder than everyone else’s and she finished with a sighed ‘Oh dear, oh dear’, as if she’d laughed so much her sides were aching.
BANG! went another bottle of lemonade and Table 4 was drenched. More raucous hysteria.
After the quiz ended, all the parents left, some drenched, most drunk, some carrying raffle prizes, and some all three. Nicky counted up the ticket money, Mark made his goodbyes to both of the quizmasters, who hadn’t talked to each other since Round 6, and the dinner ladies tidied everything up. Meanwhile Rob and Amanda, who seemed suddenly distinctly sober, kept Miss James amused.
Ally came and sat down next to Nicky. She was carrying the cuddly dog, which was the size of a pony.
‘I’m thinking of calling him Pete,’ she said, punching him on the nose. ‘Are you all right?’
Nicky grunted. ‘I suppose it could be worse.’
‘Yeah, you’re right.’
‘You think?’ rushed Nicky. ‘How?’
‘Um. You could have got lemonade all over you?’
Nicky tried to smile.
‘Or won this fluffy dog and have to go home on the night bus.’
‘Oh dear.’ Nicky looked at Ally. ‘You’re going to get killed.’
‘I’m so glad you talked me into coming.’
‘I’ll ask Claire to give you a lift home,’ said Nicky.
‘No, it’s all right,’ said Ally. ‘I’m kidding. Rob’s just offered to give us all a lift home.’
‘Has he? That was nice of him.’
‘In front of Miss James.’
‘Wanker.’
‘I know,’ agreed Ally. ‘Utter creep.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I said yes, of course.’
‘Of course. Make him go via Watford.’
They turned to Claire as she joined them. She was carrying the Godiva chocolates. Ally made Claire kiss Pete the dog before making her goodbyes. Claire sat down next to Nicky and opened the chocolates.
‘God, look at Rob and Amanda,’ hissed Nicky, taking a chocolate. ‘You’d think they were the President and First Lady, wouldn’t you?’
‘I know,’ said Claire, chewing a toffee. ‘You certainly get the feeling that he’s the Headmaster-in-waiting.’
Nicky stared at her sister.
‘Have you any idea what being supportive actually means?’ she asked.
Claire tutted. ‘I don’t mean Miss James feels that he is, I mean he acts like he is.’
Nicky sighed. ‘Tell me what the hell they’d been saying about me while I was doing the raffle tickets,’ she ordered.
‘I’ll tell you in the car.’
‘No. Tell me now, so I can do damage limitation before I leave, and actually sleep tonight.’
Claire sighed before taking another chocolate. ‘Amanda said what a lovely couple you and Mark would make.’
Nicky’s eyes doubled in size. She turned to look at Amanda just as Amanda burst into laughter at something Miss James had just said.
‘Don’t worry, it totally backfired,’ said Clare, ‘because then Ned started saying how lovely you were and his wife agreed and they said they couldn’t understand why you weren’t married.’
Nicky stared at Claire.
‘So,’ Claire we
nt on, ‘Martha said you were probably too much of a career woman and men were intimidated by that. And then Amanda said that she bet you’d give it all up in a trice, as soon as you had a family. You were one of those women and everyone knew you were desperate for kids. And it was all bound to happen soon because Mark and you were so keen on each other. She bet money on you being pregnant within the year and giving up the rat-race to become a full-time mum within two. Then Ally started saying that you could easily juggle both, and Pete agreed and said that you’d make a very good juggler, though it probably wouldn’t be ideal to start with babies, especially your own.’
Claire took another chocolate and then looked at Nicky. ‘God, Nick,’ she said. ‘You’ve gone white. Say something.’
Nicky shook her head. ‘I can’t think of anything nasty enough,’ she whispered.
When they finished counting, Nicky asked Claire to take the amount to Mark while she went to wait for her in the silent, dark car. She couldn’t face anyone. She didn’t want to go home; she just wanted to be there now. She wanted to be knocked unconscious until she was in bed.
She sped up towards the hall door, hoping no one would call her name. She had gone beyond the point of no return and was seconds away from crying. It was probably the drink, but she didn’t know it was possible to feel hate this powerfully. She hated Rob for not hating Amanda, or at least pretending to and not standing up for her about being a career woman. She hated Amanda for saying those things in front of Miss James. She hated Miss James for making her and Rob compete. And for always smiling and being in such a bloody good mood all the time – what pills was that woman on? She hated her for pretending that she didn’t know how much work went into everything. She hated Pete for always making jokes the whole bloody time. She hated Claire for being so honest all bloody evening. And she hated Mark for looking keen on her in public and yet being so unreadable to her.
As she walked down the empty, darkened corridor, heading towards the exit, her tears started coming. She sniffed loudly and let out a choked sob, its echo ringing out past the wall display of the solar system. Just as she opened the school’s entrance to the playground, she heard the door from the hall behind her swing open into the corridor. Someone wasn’t far behind. She sped up. She didn’t want any of them to see her like this. By the time she was halfway across she was sober. She’d already got Claire’s car key out of her bag. She ran a little of the way until she reached the path. The gentle curve of the lamp-posts at the side of the path and fairy lights in the conifers always made the path look like a fairy grotto at night, but as the sound of the footsteps behind Nicky stopped, indicating that whoever was behind her had now also reached the squidgy tarmac too, she didn’t care. As soon as Claire’s car hove into view, she pointed her key at the car and started clicking desperately, nearly sobbing with frustration when nothing happened, like a desperate radar-wielding Star Trek extra. Finally she heard the loud click of the car doors unlocking. She sped up and yanked at the passenger door. It didn’t open and she almost pulled her back out. She’d forgotten the child-safety lock. The person behind her was catching up. Frantically, she pressed the car key again. The person behind her was now gaining. Suddenly, with a tiny little click, the passenger door unlocked. Now she could hear the footsteps again, which meant the person was in the car park. It sounded like a woman. If it was Amanda, there was every chance she’d hit her and then keep on hitting.
She pulled open the car door and just as she was about to jump in, she heard Miss James sing out her name. She moaned silently, wiped her face fast, smiled and turned to face her boss.
‘Congratulations!’ trilled Miss James. ‘Well done, my dear.’ Her voice was an octave higher than usual, her arms stretched towards her. ‘What a wonderful, wonderful evening! You should be very, very, very, very, very proud of yourself.’
Nicky tried not to burst into tears. ‘Thank you,’ she squeaked. ‘Glad you enjoyed it.’
‘Enjoy it? Enjoy it! I loved it. Loved it! Adored every minute of it! So funny! The lemonade! Genius!’ She burst into laughter, before suddenly going serious and pointing at Nicky. ‘You clearly have superb organisational skills.’
‘Yes. It was fun organising it.’
‘And you can clearly work well as one of a team.’
‘I’d like to think so. It was a good team as well,’ breathed Nicky, her hand on the door handle.
‘Of course!’ agreed Miss James, nodding. ‘Indubiterbibbly.’
‘Mm.’
Miss James just wasn’t getting the hint. Instead, to Nicky’s horror, she even leant in closer, swaying softly like a conifer in the breeze, her eyes so near that Nicky could see the reds of them. Then she whispered very, very loudly, ‘That young Miss Taylor!’ She widened her eyes. ‘She’s a little turn-up for the books, isn’t she?’
‘Oh?’ mumbled Nicky, dreading the worst. ‘H-how do you mean?’
Miss James gave her a big wink, which involved her entire body and made her look like she was trying to prevent middle-aged leakage. ‘My dear,’ she confided, ‘the girl’s a completely conniving cow.’ She tapped her nose, missed, and almost poked herself in the eye. Then she squeezed Nicky’s arm and finally left her in peace.
25
‘RIGHT,’ BEGAN CLAIRE, from across Nicky’s dining-room table. ‘Now then, Miss Hobbs –’
‘She doesn’t call me Miss Hobbs,’ interrupted Nicky.
Claire shot her a look over her glasses. ‘Excuse me,’ she said shortly, ‘this is meant to be a role-play.’
‘Well, there’s no point in doing a role-play if it’s not convincing,’ said Nicky. ‘She doesn’t call me Miss Hobbs.’
‘What does she call you? Nicky?’
‘“My dear”. “Dear girl”.’ Nicky tried to think of some more.
Claire frowned. ‘Doesn’t sound very professional. What does she call Rob?’ she asked drily. ‘“Boss”?’
Nicky shut her eyes. ‘Just begin the interview.’
Claire coughed. ‘Well, my dear,’ she began again, ‘what qualities do you think you can bring to this job?’
The practice interview went well. During it, Nicky was forced to reorganise a few key answers and devise a method for remembering everything, which entailed a combination of mnemonics and imaginary headlines. After three hours and much repetition, she thought her brain might dissolve.
‘What time is the interview?’ asked Claire.
‘Eight.’
‘What time is Rob’s?’
‘Seven.’
‘Hmm.’
Nicky sighed. ‘Don’t ever tell me what that “hmm” means.’
‘No, I just –’
‘I don’t want to hear it.’
‘– think you’ve got longer to sleep in –’
‘Hah!’
‘– or prepare.’
Nicky rubbed her eyes. She knew she couldn’t possibly prepare for another question. She’d even thought of a compelling answer for what she’d do if she got pregnant, apart from ‘sell my story of immaculate conception to the press’.
She’d thought through and round every possible angle that Miss James might pursue in tomorrow’s interview. In fact, she’d thought of every single aspect of this job. And the more she’d thought about it, the more she knew she wanted it. And the more she wanted it, the more nervous she got. Her stomach was so full of nerves there was no room for anything else in it, least of all food. She hadn’t eaten any dinner. At 11 p.m., just after Claire had left, she forced some toast and tea down her throat but had to leave most of it.
She slept well, which is to say, she didn’t wake up all night. But she dreamt terribly. She had her recurring exam nightmare, where she was doing A-levels and had just discovered she had to do Maths instead of English and Classics. Her best friend (Marianne Sunderland – two boys, one surgeon husband, own beachwear catalogue business) was trying to help her but could only speak Chinese.
When Nicky woke, her cheeks were damp. She looked
at her clock just as its alarm went off. She listened to Radio 4 as she got ready for her interview, just in case Miss James surprised her and asked her something topical. When she got into her car and tuned in again, she realised that she hadn’t heard a single word. She didn’t even know who today’s presenters were. She changed the channel to Classic FM, but it was adverts mostly for digital radios and she didn’t want one. She couldn’t even listen to this one properly. She turned it off and decided to role-play another interview. By the time she arrived at school, her lower inner lip was shredded and her stomach was concrete.
She sat in her car, steadying her breath. When her mobile phone bleeped with a text message, she smiled immediately. She took it out and read it.
Brk a leg. Preferably Rob’s. Ally x
For a full minute, she envied Ally her late mornings and stress-free days. And then, after the minute was over, she got out of her car and smoothed down her smart interview skirt.
She walked up the path and studied the numbers and alphabet on the ground. If she got the job, she’d get them repainted. And possibly change the G-gnu for a G-goat.
Five minutes later, she stood in the silent staffroom blinking up at the clock. Half past seven. Rob had been in there for half an hour. She had half an hour to kill. Her body shivered, as if someone had just walked over her grave. Her hands were freezing. She decided, for want of anything else to do, to boil the kettle even though she didn’t want tea or coffee. Then she decided to redo her make-up, and when the kettle boiled before she was halfway through, she just stopped and looked at it, mascara wand in hand.
Sitting there like that, she asked herself why she was quite this nervous. She had had job interviews before. She had passed a lifetime’s worth of exams. She picked up her mirror again. She brought it closer to her face and stared at the delicate, precisely parallel lines beginning their journey down the soft skin from the outer corner of her eyes to the tip of her cheekbones.
‘Hiya. How are you?’ came Mark’s voice from the door.
She almost dropped the mirror.
‘OK, thanks,’ she answered. Her lips were now quivering with cold.
He walked into the staffroom and she thought he might bend down to hug her, but he just stopped short of reaching that far. ‘You’ll be fine,’ he said.
The Learning Curve Page 34
